


Excessive Curiosity And Where It Lead You

by Bubble_Pomme



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Happy Ending, Humor, Journalism, M/M, Master of Death (Harry Potter), Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Resurrection, Rita thinking very highly of herself, but like, let's rise like a phoenix!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28755099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubble_Pomme/pseuds/Bubble_Pomme
Summary: Rita Skeeter knew better than anyone that no pain meant no gain. The Daily Prophet better gave her one hell of a raise for this.How Rita Skeeter, journalist extraordinaire, went on a quest to uncover the truth on one Albus Dumbledore... only to find her hands full with ex-Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 25
Kudos: 49





	Excessive Curiosity And Where It Lead You

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my brain idea of a ‘short one-shot’ haha ^^”  
> I played loosely with the canon timeline, so if some stuff are not how it is in DH, well it’s an AU anyway. Also, Gellert is very grey in this one? And Albus is playing with morals as he see fit (so the usual, then).  
> That being said, enjoy!

_I’m just a little bit caught in the middle  
Life is maze  
And love is a riddle ___

__

__Before_ _

__“I did know I’ve heard something.” Dumbledore cheerfully said as he opened his door, and she froze, “Please Miss Skeeter, do take a seat.”_ _

__She looked up from her half crouched position to see her professor smiling down at her, as if she hadn’t been trying to Alohomora the hell out of his private’s room. He looked peaceful and relaxed like it was an everyday’s occurrence that a student get caught red handed at trying his or her luck by throwing every opening Charms they knew at his door. If it was a façade, it was very well done. Rita was very envious of it.  
She reluctantly followed him inside. Yes she had wanted to enter, but she also wanted to snoop, and with him present (wasn’t he suppose to work at this hour? Was he only paid at feeding sweets and lectures to his students while he did a flashy magical thing on the side?) it certainly wasn’t going to happen today. She tried to tell herself that there would be another opportunity to try again, but even as she was thinking it, his eyes twinkled and she was pretty sure to be busted._ _

__He sat into a horrible plush and yellow armchair, and he invited her to take the other one. A vaguely royal blue thing, that she supposed, could be label as a furniture too (Merlin, his tastes!). Next to him, there was his demon bird, Fawkes, who was narrowing his little creepy eyes at her from his high perch. She returned the favor._ _

__“So, tell me Miss Skeeter,” he started, voice calm and with a smile as sweet as the candies he fancied. “What can I do for you?”_ _

__You could start by telling me all your secrets, she thought fiercely. She gazed around his room, drank into the poor taste of his furnitures, in the messy state of his desk - full of the parchments who were trying to crawl onto the floor - and in the shelves full of books before she answered, “I was looking for something.” the truth about you. It was his fault, she mused, for being so secretive and shady all the time. A little transparency now and then, had never hurt anyone. “But I think I lost myself.” She feigned an embarrassed moue, and thought that it was plausible. After all, she was only a second year, and Hogwarts was full of tricky corridors._ _

__“Ah, I see.” he hummed, even as his eyes bore into hers. He didn’t seem fooled, not even close, and she started to be nervous. But then, he smiled again, before he offered her a box full of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. “Do take some.” It didn’t sound like an option._ _

__She left soon after, but not before she fell on the vomit flavoured bean. She had never been so disgusted by Dumbledore’s nefarious candies as she was now. Dumbledore had looked regretful, but she wasn’t buying it anymore than he had bought her story. She caught his eyes before she ran out, he had been smiling serenely, the old owl._ _

__“A little curiosity is never amiss,” he had said, almost absently as she was about to cross the sill of his door, “But too much often lead you to displeasant roads, Miss Skeeter.” His demon bird had chirped at this, clearly in agreement._ _

__She firmly closed the door shut; dearly wishing it was to his face. Fine, she thought fuming, as she stomped into the deserted corridors, if this was how it was. No matter how long it would take her, she was going to tear his polished smile off his face and reveal his true identity to the world.  
But before, she was going to hunt a glass of water._ _

__Just so, he waited for it._ _

__

__*  
January, 1998_ _

__Rita flattened her dress under the heavy Scottish’s coat she was wearing one last time, before she knocked on the wooden door.  
While it seemed solid, the rest of the cottage (and it was a very generous word) looked on the verge of crumbling to the ground. Maybe once, a lifetime or two ago, it had been pretty, but now, the paint was peeling itself off the walls, the roof was falling, and all in all, it seemed as if the house was several minutes away from crumbling.  
She made a moue as she inspected the garden – just as miserable as the rest – and gathered that she would have to skip the description on what the neighbour used to be. It would save her time, and anyway, her dear readers were out for juicy informations, not for the flowers Miss Bagshot had put on her window a century ago.  
The door opened, painfully, if the noise it made was anything to go by. It made her want to wince._ _

__A old and petite woman stood hesitantly on the other side. “Yes?” She asked, her voice holding an hint of incertitude._ _

__Rita smoothed her expression into a smile that she knew was reassuring. She had once made a paranoid Auror spilled all his secrets to her, just with that smile. She knew it worked wonders. “Hello, Miss Bagshot.” she greeted, “I was wondering if –”_ _

__“Oh, you’ve come for Gellert.” she cut her off. Wasn’t old people supposed to be more polite? “Come in, dear. But I have to warn you, he’s out at this time of the day.” Bathilda Bagshot told her with a most serious expression as she opened the door wider so she could enter. “You should have owl me.”_ _

__Rita had no idea who this ‘Gellert’ was, but she would be damned if she let this opportunity pass her by. She gladly went in._ _

__

__*  
Miss Bagshot made her tea – so apprently old people still had some manners – and served her in a room that for all purpose, could be the archive room instead of the living. There were dust along volume and volume of papers dropped on every surface avaible. It was impressive - how could someone possess some many books - as well as a little neurotic - how could someone possess so many books.  
She got her writing feather quill out, along a roll of parchment, before she tasted the tea. She couldn’t supress a disgusted expression as she realized it was mostly boiled water with milk on it._ _

__Only the thoughts of the headline: Dumbledore’s dark secrets revealed (still a working title) written in bolt letters, managed to make her turned her grimace into a grateful smile. “So Miss Bagshot, can you tell me about –”_ _

__“I told you,” she cut her off again, while Rita’s fluffy feather quill’s started to put down: ‘Miss Bagshot seemed to be in the terrible habit to –’ on the parchment. She might leave it in the final edition, she did hate being interrupted, “Gellert is out for now. It’s still daylight, and he usually stays out until sunset.” she smiled, making wrinkles appeared upon wrinkles. A feat, Rita thought. “Ah to be young.” she sighed wistfully, “Of course, I tried to rein him a little at first, but the days are so lovely this season, it would be a shame to spend them all inside.”_ _

__Rita gazed slowly through the scratchy window. The rain was falling abundantly, some rainsdrops were licking at the glass and trying to get inside through the cracks. The clouds were black and menacing. Rita guessed that the sun must be somewhere near the South Equator, at least, this was where she had last heard of it.  
It was late January in Great Britain, and no one in their right mind would be outside. She turned her eyes back at Miss Bagshot, and sighed as she realized that she must be dealing with crazy.  
Crazy could be tricky, she mused, but crazy liked to talk too. It was only a matter of equilibrium._ _

__“I’m very disappointed to have missed Gellert.” she pretended as she made an exaggerate moue. She put the awful drink on the low table, as far away from her lips as she could. “I’ve wanted to talk to him about,” she paused as she thought rapidly, “Albus Dumbledore.” she decided, the hell with this, she didn’t come here for bad tea and no sympathy, “He said he will tell me all about him.” She said, putting the emphasis on ‘all’._ _

__Bagshot’s expression looked lost in translation at first, as if her mind couldn’t comprehend what she was talking about before it cleared, and settled into a form of smug happiness._ _

__“Oh, you shall have said it right away, dear.” she beamed, “I will go fetch the pictures.”_ _

__“The pictures?” she repeated blankly, “Wait –”_ _

__“Do wait here.” She instructed as she stood up and slowly went to the stairs._ _

__Crazy, was also a pain to deal with, Rita mused as she sighed tiredly._ _

__

__*  
Bagshot came back, which was at least something, with what looked like a family’s album tucked under her arms. She put it on the low table delicately, sweeping the surface with the back of her hand, as if to force the dust sleeping there to make room for her. The dust didn’t care for Bagshot’s hand cleaning. Too little, too late, Rita supposed._ _

__The old woman sat heavily next to her, and opened her book. She pointed a trembling finger at the first picture, “Oh look, this is me. Wasn’t I pretty?” she asked._ _

__Rita peered at the old thing. It was a sepia picture of a young woman, holding a book into one of her hands. She was wearing a classic witch hat along an outdated and all covering outfit. Yet her smile was wide, and she was radiating that typical youth’s anticipation. “Yes, you were very cute.” 'Bathilda Bagshot', her quill furiously wrote, 'who once upon a time had been a vibrant woman with a clever mind –everyone would recall her books based on History and her daring take on the vampires’ species – was now, no more than a old woman living inside a dusty cottage, haunted by the memories of her youth. Her eyes were looking past everyone, perhaps, because she had realized that she had now become History herself'._ _

__“Ah here he is.” Bagshot said after she leafed through the page. She was completely ignoring her busy quill, it was as if she wasn’t even aware it was here. “Gellert.” she chuckled, “Oh, he’s trying too hard to look serious in this one.”_ _

__Rita leaned down in order to see better. It was a young man, dressed all in black, and gazing at the camera with an intensity that was enviable. He was handsome, a lean body with curly hair that he coiffed back, and he seemed to know his charm well enough to wield it. His posture was perfect, it reminded her of militaries. He had crossed his arms over his chest, his wand visible, and it made him threatening, in the abstract way that he could strike you if he wished to. He barely moved inside the frozen photography, though was it because of the low quality of the picture or because it was deliberate, she couldn’t know._ _

__Bagshot took her silence for agreement, she turned some more pages before she seemed to find the one she had been looking for, “I like this one better,” she confided to her, “It’s my favorite. I took it some days ago.” she happily explained, “I had the most trouble having them both stop what they were doing. But, I managed to make them pose for me.” She proudly announced._ _

__Rita decided to give this woman one last indulgence before she tried to get her back on tracks (not an easy thing to accomplish with crazy).  
So she generously looked down at the picture, more sepia she sighed, and it was almost out of the goodness of her heart that she hummed in appreciation. At least the quality seemed better, less grey and she could clearly see the trees, behind the two figures, moving slowly along the wind. There was the young man from the previous photography, this time standing with both his hands folded on his back, with another one. If Gellert was tall, as he seemed to have been, then his friend was almost as tall as him. If Gellert was in black, his friend wore a white shirt with a brown vest and trouser. Gellert was proudly holding his chin high. The other young man next to him, mirrored him, but he was smiling, a small and secretive expression gracing his lips. It was as if he knew something that the others around him could barely start to grasp. It was awfully arrogant and somehow, terribly familiar. She frowned down at them._ _

__“I told my nephew: ‘Gellert Grindelwald, don’t you forget that it was all thanks to me that you’ve met Albus’.” Bagshot recited in a most stern voice. “He looked annoyed, and I saw him rolled his eyes,” she tsk’d, “But he listened to me in the end. Of course, it helped that Albus was there. I’m very fond of him, and him of me. He never could refuse me anything.” She laughed as if she had gotten away with something._ _

__Meanwhile, Rita’s writing quill stilled in shock, while Rita, herself, was chocking on air.  
In her mind she could taste the scandal, and it was far more sweeter than Bagshot’s tea._ _

__

__*  
“I introduced him to poor Albus,” Miss Bagshot told her, “Who was missing the company of lads his own age.” she smiled, “The boys took to each other at once. They got along like a cauldron on fire!” She laughed at her own joke._ _

__Rita’s quill greedily wrote everything down._ _

__

__*  
She took the pictures with her. And a letter (a treasure on its own) that Rita promised Bagshot that she would give back to Gellert as soon as she saw him. (Yes, she lied to an old woman, but one didn’t publish in the Prophet by being completely trustful. She resoned that she hadn’t said when she would give it to him, and that it wasn’t her fault if Grindelwald had been in prison for the past fifty years.)_ _

__She only dared to unfold the letter once she Apparated inside her apartment. She put it flat on her kitchen’s table, and couldn’t resist to look over her shoulders as she did so, as if Dumbledore himself was going to rise from his tomb and snatch it back. She even waited for several seconds for him to show up, but when it was clear nothing and no one was coming, she carefully adjusted her glass on her nose._ _

_Gellert,  
Your point about Wizard dominance being FOR THE MUGGLES’ OWN GOOD - this, I think, is the crucial point. Yes, we have been given power and, yes, that power gives us the right to rule, but it also gives us responsibilities over the ruled. We must stress this point, it will be the foundation stone upon which we build. Where we are opposed, as we surely will be, this must be the basis of all our couter-arguments. We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD.  
And from this it follows that where we meet resistance, we must use only the force that is necessary and no more.  
(This was your mistake at Durmstrang! But I do not complain, because if you had not been expelled, we would have never met.)  
Albus. ___

____

____

__By the time she had read it for the third time, she was weeping in happiness.  
A young Dumbledore being friend with Grindelwald. Spending all his days with him. Writing to him in the dead of the night. Having such anarchist’s thoughts (and wasn’t the Ministry going to love it? She thought in a giggle). Planning to ‘seize control’. And the final nail on his coffin (so to speak), this well-known motto, the Greater Good, not coming from Grindelwald’s unstable mind, but from Dumbledore’s himself.  
Everything was here, black ink on a yellow-ish paper, and every word was as condamning as the other._ _

__She never had such news._ _

__

__*  
She was writing the first draft of her novel (at this point, she figured that she ought to be more ambitious. The letter alone deserved more than a simple paper) when her boss’s secretary, a very eager man with little scruples (her favorite type) firecalled her._ _

__“Do you remember Doge’s declaration?” He said as soon as the connection was made._ _

__She didn’t take offence of his lack of greeting, she liked his ‘straight to the point’ attitude. Like her, he knew that there was no time to waste when gossips were at stake. “Yes. It’s not everyday Dodgy Doge got out of his little recluse spell.” yet, she hummed in interest, “He must have really liked Dumbledore.” she remarked absently, caressing the feather of her quill against her chin as she thought of all the things this could mean. Was it more to Doge and Dumbledore’s relationship than she had previously thought? “Why?” She asked greedily._ _

__Her correspondent smiled, “I will send you a copy. I believe you will find it interesting, given your subject.” He slipped meaningfully._ _

__She smiled back, delighted. “How nice of you.”_ _

__

__*  
'Albus Dumbledore', she rapidly reread Doge’s declaration, blah blah blah, 'I shall miss his friendship' (she rolled her eyes just as she did the first time), blah blah 'died as he lived: always working for the greater good and, to his last hou-' wait. She went back to what she had just read.  
Did Doge honestly write that Dumbledore always worked for the greater good? Or should she say the ‘Greater Good’? Aka Grindelwald’s motto? Her eyes widened as she confirmed that yes, those were the words he had chosen._ _

__She straightened into her armchair, feeling her cherry lipstick extend as she smiled wider and wider.  
She must have done something terribly right (in another life, obviously) to deserve this._ _

__

__*  
“What are you doing here?” The man asked, door half open, half close and already sounding defensive, and how so rude. Honestly, old people these days._ _

__“I came to speak to you, Mister Doge.” Clearly, she thought. What else would she come here, in some not-on-the-map village in the middle of nowhere? She was a city woman (see: her trendy clothes, her painted nails and polished heels). She had no other rational reasons to be here (the things she would do for the truth)._ _

__Doge made a disgusted grimace that didn’t anything good for his face. 'Elphias Doge', her quill began to scribe down on the blank parchment that was floating next to her, 'was notoriously known as Albus Dumbledore’s first and most dear friend. But given the affection he still have for the late Hogwarts’ Headmaster, one could think that what they had shared was more than friendship'. INSERT A PICTURE OF THEM, she made her quill underlined it._ _

__“I have nothing to say to to you, Miss Skeeter.” he said in a barely contained fury, as his eyes all but glared at her quill, “I know you’re writing on Albus and had been fishing for informations, to the point of bothering Bathilda Bagshot.” at her surprised look, he added evenly, “News travel fast, don’t they.”_ _

__Unfortunate. She lifted her chin higher, “Staying silent won’t help him, you know.” she told him, “I already gathered proof of his involvement with Grindelwald’s little anarchist movement.” she threw the line and wait to see if the fish would bite on it. Dodgy Doge clenched his jaw, but didn’t answer. Stubborn fish. She pressed, “Which is why I was surprised when I read you. You said, and I quote: ‘that he always worked for the greater good’. A revealing choice of words, don’t you think?” she didn’t wait for his (lame) reply before she continued, “Are you implying that he had been working along Mister Grindelwald during his years as Dark Lord? I’ve heard tiny whispers who told me that Dumbledore had been downright unwilling to engage in a fight against Grindelwald.” she smiled sweetly as his expression became more pinched, “Could it be that he shared more sympathies with the enemy that he had let on?” She finished, her eyes fluttering at him under the frame of her glasses._ _

__“Leave.” He slammed the door on her face._ _

__Fine, if this was how he wanted to play it._ _

__

__*  
She went inside Doge’s pathetic house by one of his window. She had to wait for him to leave first, and he had taken his sweet time to walk out (didn’t he realize that some had a deadline?), before she transformed into her Animagus’ form._ _

__She buzzed from room to room, trying to find if Dumbledore’s guard dog was actually protecting something or if he was just for show.  
She transformed back to her (dashing) self when she reached the attic. From her experience, it was where most people tended to hide their secrets, under pile of superfluous stuff and old object holding some sort of sentimental value._ _

__She rummaged without care inside Doge’s possession, casting a Revelio here and there to make sure that she didn’t miss a thing. Her spell found something after ten good minutes of making a mess of Doge’s (previously) well-organized room. She went over it like a thirsty man who had spent too much time in the desert. It was hidden under the floor-board; she had to crouch on the dusty floor, and she spared a thought for her lovely tights as she did so. She also had to rip the offending wood out of her way, with her bare hands no less, because it turned out that her magic was being blocked by whatever was inside. She ruined her nails as her fingers dug into the old wood, and she hoped to Merlin and all the knights that it was something worth it._ _

__Her hands went inside the little hide randomly, her Lumos spell also unable to reach the bottom of this make-up safe. Finally she came into contact with something rectangular, and she victoriously pulled it out and into the light._ _

__It was shoe box, made of some sort of metal, iron perhaps. It had been engraved with a huge rune. She squinted at it, as she inspected it over. It was roughly the length of a wand. She could see that the seal had suffered from time, and was fading like a dying star. It must be why her magic even caught a whiff of it; and she gathered that it shouldn’t be too hard to open it. She took it, and without a ounce of remorse for the mess she made inside Darling Dodgy’s attic, she saw herself out._ _

__

__*  
She was right (as usual), but it still took her severals hours, and a heavy headache to crack the shoe box._ _

__She pushed the lid opened, and sat on her kitchen chair as she peered inside, her nose almost touching the edge of the metallic’s box as she did.  
There, resting peacefully, were two wands, which again was unsurprising, but begged the question on who were their owners.  
She took the first one, and weight it curiously between her palm. It was straight, made of dark wood, and the handle was sculpted into beautiful waves of sort. It was hot to the touch, to the point of disconfort. She put it down as she went to examine the other one, feeling burnt by it.  
The second wasn’t better. Oh, it was more simple in way, twisted, but still as dark as the other one, but when Rita touched it, it froze her out, chilled her to the bones, and she hissed in pain, and lost her grip. Once freed, the wand ricochet against the flat surface of her table, and came to rest, once more, next to the other._ _

__Peculiar, she thought as she rose one eyebrow._ _

__She touched the rest of the box carefully (her hands had already taken many hit today) and she felt a little mecanism activate as her fingers bumped into something. She fearfully leaned back into her chair and away from it, less it exploded into her face, but the box seemed to twist on itself, before it changed shape. It became a petite and round elaborate jewelry box, which color seemed to move from night blue to yellow, to red, before it settled into a intense black. It was covered by an impressive amount of wards, there were symbols written in gold, and circling around it._ _

__Forgetting caution, she tried to run her fingers on this little wonder, feeling mesmerised by the beauty of this object. But her attempt was rebuffed by a firm push. So, it was a ‘you can look but not touch’ situation, she mused as she pouted.  
She crossed her arms over her chest as she considered it. She imagined that creating such a thing asked for a certain brillance (she huffed), and that this flashy display of Transfiguration could only mean one name: Albus Dumbledore had made this object of art.  
She pondered over it sulkily- she needed more than ever to open it, couldn’t Dumbledore be helpful for once and try not to ruin her work? – when a very clever idea crossed her mind: if Dumbledore had made it, then the magic protecting it must be fading. Everyone knew that it was easier to break a spell once its caster was out of the picture._ _

__And she just happened to know someone who worked at Department of Mysteries and who owned her, well, everything._ _

__

__*  
Her contact opened it for her, and she chastised him for taking so long (three weeks, and he called himself a professional?). He had tried to justify his incompetence by declaring that it was the most complicated use of Transfiguration’s spells he had ever seen, and Rita decided to graciously ignore the admiration shining in his eyes. Dumbledore didn’t need another fanboy._ _

__She went home, the snow crunching under her shoes. February had come weeks ago and already the streets of London were beginning to drape themselves in white. It was so cliché, but she supposed it made a good décor for the eventual tourists. (There were not much people outside those days, apparently, having a mad man and his little militia taking over their Ministry had deterred most to go out.)  
She passed through her threshold and closed her door, barely containing her excitement at –finally- discovering what Dumbledore could have hidden so carefully (if it was a bag of candy, she was going to put his tomb on fire, and no one would be able to say he hadn’t thoroughly deserved it.)_ _

__She almost threw the little box out of her way as she ripped inside. What she got wasn’t candies – it was better for Dumbledore’s resting place really- but a pendant._ _

__She took it by the chain, so it swung in the air as it breathed outside its safe for the first time in, she didn’t know how many, years. She watched it reflect the light coming from her windows lazily. It was beautiful without doubt but its design was strange. It had the form of a diamond, covered again in inscriptions that held no sense to her. In its center there was a round made of… what was it made of? This round stone (was it even a stone?) had something inside, she narrowed her eyes in order to see better. It seemed to be two red bubble (huh?) caught there, circling around each other in an eternal dance._ _

__“Well, this doesn’t answer any of my questions.” She told the inanimate object, in a reproachful tone. She had put a lot of hope onto it._ _

__The pendant stayed silent, and she passed it around her neck (finder keeper). She grabbed the two mysterious wands before she went out.  
It was fortunate that she was so resourceful._ _

__

__*  
“Rita Skeeter,” Ollivander greeted her in unconcealed surprise, “What could you want from me, I wonder.” He patted his jaw as if to search how, exactly, she could need him (and this was how everyone should react to her lovely presence)._ _

__She smiled agreeably, Ollivander was always so eager to help. “I need your expert’s eyes, of course.” she put the two wands on his counter, and she watched him leaned down, interest picked already. He was so easy. “I found these two poor things,” she made sure that her tone was pitying enough, “All alone.” Ollivander looked stricken even as he inspected them, offended at this abandonment, “And I was wondering if you could help me found their rightful owners. It made me too sad to think of them left to take the dust as they were.”_ _

__Ollivander hummed, and he turned his full attention on the sticks. He turned them around, examining them like a Healer would do with a patient. She let him work in silence, but at some point his eyes widened and widened, and he dropped them down, his face ashen._ _

__“What?” She prompted him, as she wetted her lips, sure that she could taste the scoop._ _

__“I can only tell you, who was the owner of this one.” he showed her the one with the sculpted handle, “The other one,” he pointed at the twisted one, “Wasn’t made here. It’s Gregorovitch’s work.”_ _

__She nodded, even though it only added another mystery to the riddle that was Dumbledore. “So, at who was it?”_ _

__“Albus Dumbledore.” he said in a whisper as he casted his eyes down to look at it, “This one is Albus Dumbledore’s wand.”_ _

__She frowned, “But, he had been buried with his wand.” This she was sure. She had attended Dumbledore’s funeral in Hogwarts. They all had come to pay their respect, one at a time, and she remembered having seen his body laying still, wrapped as it was into an horrible purple velvet spangled cover with golden stars, like it had been caught sleeping. She had seen his white robe (everything had been white that day, to the sky, to the flames), its elaborate pattern running on the collar, perking through the cover. His pale hand had been put over his chest, his wand resting between his lifeless fingers._ _

__“Not his original wand.” He closed his mouth shut, as if he wished he could take it all back already._ _

__Her eyes shone in anticipation. “What –”_ _

__This was when a pair of Death Eaters made the doorbell of Ollivander’s shop rang, and Rita barely managed to take one of the wands, the twisted one, before she buzzed out. They passed her by without notice._ _

__

__*  
She waited one hour after the Death Eaters left with a panicked Ollivander under the tips of their wands, before she tentatively went back into his shop in order to grab back Dumbledore’s original wand._ _

__She almost sighed in relief when she saw it, resting peacefully on the counter, as if it was awaiting for her.  
She quickly went out, less than someone working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named saw her there and drew unfortunate conclusions (who knew what Ollivander had done to anger the Dark Lord). She was about to secure Dumbledore’s wand by putting it under her coat, when a red blur seized it from her open hand. She cried out in surprise, and looked around and upward to see what had ambushed her. Her eyes fell on the criminal, a well-known bird, who had the audacity to have perched himself on the hightest lamppost on the street, and was now lazily blinking down at her._ _

__“Fawkes.” she gritted in irritation, “You thief,” she accused, “Give it back.” She ordered him, quite firmly if she dared to say so._ _

__Yet, he looked even less impressed by her (stupid bird!), and he even made a sound that she translated as bored, before he flew away. With his late master’s wand._ _

__If she was the type, she would have cried out in frustration._ _

__

__*  
She almost stomped inside her flat. She pushed the door shut rather violently, before she paced, agitated, inside her entrance._ _

__Fine, she had lost Dumbledore’s wand, but it didn’t change the fact that it had been inside the shoe box in the first place and that she needed to know why. She also had to understand what a jewel had anything to do with all of this._ _

__She paced some more._ _

__She had to begin with what she had. Right now, she had a couple of old photography, a letter, and a wand made by Gregorovitch, who everyone knew worked in eastern Europe.  
She stopped as she connected two dots.  
Most Durmstrang’s students went to get their wands there (at least when he had still be in activity). Or, didn’t Dumbledore, in his letter, have mentionned Grindelwald expellation from Durmstrang? _ _

__It was high time she interviewed the co-protaganist of this story._ _

__

__*  
Nurmengard was cold, remote and depressing, and it was not the poor sun of March that was going to bright up the place.  
The splendor of the castle, (and it must have been grand, she could spot some vestige of it in the way the stairs had been sculpted and in the beautiful view of the Alps displayed through high windows) were now nothing more than a memory. Everything seemed dulled now, as if it had been washed away and drapped over a grey veil._ _

__A guard guided her toward Grindelwald’s cell. Their steps were echoing into the stairs, and breaking the hush that had fallen there, if only for an instant. They kept going up, and up, and when she asked about it, the guard replied that Grindelwald was at the very top of the West tower of Nurmengard. She thought that she had once read a Muggle’s fairytale like this, except it had been a young princess kept captive. (This kind of story didn’t sell so well nowdays. Who wanted to hear about some girl? What people truly wanted to know, was if she had been put here because of some scandalous family’s secret, not that she was pure and knew how to sing.)_ _

__She tried to grasp Grindelwald’s character as she get closer and closer to his cell.  
Bagshot had hinted at a clever young man, but Dumbledore’s letter had revealed someone proned to violence and tantrums (how did he get expelled form Durmstrang exactly? Another question she had to ask him). Seraphina Picquery, MACUSA’s president in the 1920’s, had once declared him a dangerous manipulator. Some had said he was unstable, others that he was charismatic. History, for her part, had almost completely forgotten all about him, a very strange occurrence when you knew that he had held Europe in the center of his palm for roughly thirty years._ _

__Yet, all her imagination couldn’t have prepared for the sight waiting for her.  
Grindelwald was sitting bare foot on the ground of his prison, his clothes in tatters and falling from his slim figure. He looked very old indeed, with his hair waving on his shoulders and his pale face, but mostly, he looked tired of it all and bored out of his mind._ _

__He barely aknowledged them, and the guards leaned down to whisper to her ear, “He never had visitors, and he’s a little, you know,” he made a looping move with his fingers, before he shrugged. “Anyway, you have ten minutes, and not a second more.” he told her, “The whole place is warded, so no one can use magic here. Don’t touch the bar of his cell, and don’t hand him anything.” He instructed curtly before leaving her alone. With Grindelwald._ _

__She studied the pitiful figure he made, before she greeted him, “I’m Rita Skeeter, journalist to the Daily Prophet.”_ _

__He slowly rose his chin to look at her. His look was chilling, grey white and pale blue eyes taking her apart. No one had mentionned his heterochromatic eyes. “It’s your paper which published Doge’s declaration.” He finally said, his voice rough from disuse._ _

__“You read it?” She asked taken aback._ _

__“Yes. The prose was lazy. It reeked of amateurism.” he reviewed evenly, but she could detect a note of anger into his words. “Why are you here?”_ _

__“I’m writing a book on the life and lies of Albus Dumbledore,” she explained, “And I believe that you could help me. I –”_ _

__“Help you?” he repeated hollow, before he chuckled dryly, “Help you.” he laughed harder. “Why would I help you, Fraulein? What do you have, that I could wish in return?” he asked her, his voice mocking and just this side of menacing, “Nothing. There’s nothing you could give me that I want, and I don’t see why I shall help you for naught.” he smiled then, and it wasn’t reassuring, “I’m afraid you’ve lost your time by coming there. Leave me now,” he ordered, “I’m waiting for someone else.” He absently dismissed her with a wave of his hand._ _

__She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, (she was sick of dealing with moody old people), before she smoothed her expression into a smile, “I have something, that I believe was yours,” She started, her hand disappearing inside the reducing purse she had hidden under her coat, in order to pass the watchful eyes of the entry guards (didn’t they understand that fresh gossip asked for no restrictions?). She moved her heavy coat out of the way to grab the purse and get out the twisted wand. She showed it off to Grindelwald, feeling immensely smug as she caught his interest._ _

__His eyes widened, and he slowly rose from the floor, even as his legs shook. “Yes, you have something of mine.” he whispered. He hummed the air, as if he could taste it. “You little thief.” he said evenly. He made some tentative steps before he stopped in front of the cold bars separating them. His eyes looked feverish, and she followed his line of sight, only to realize that he wasn’t gazing at the wand she had in her hand, but at her rack. She made a disgusted noise before she covered herself back into her coat. He almost hissed, the pervert. “Show me.” He all but demanded._ _

__“I know it’s been some time for you,” she started even as her mouth curled down, “And obviously, I’m very pretty, but –”_ _

__“I don’t care about you!” he rudely shouted, “The pendant you’re wearing.” he made graby hands at her, his slim arms managing to pass through the bars, “The pendant.” he repated, sounding desperate. “Show me.”_ _

__She frowned, but conceded to his ask (if this could make him talk). She took the chain and grabbed the jewel into her hands, before holding it in front of him, so he could see it._ _

__Somehow, the view of it made him more agitated. “He lied. He lied!” he cried and then he laughed, hysteric, “He lied! To my face!” he shouted, visibly torn between indignation and weirdly enough, happiness, “I knew he couldn’t have! He couldn’t have! Like me!” he started to giggle, “He’s like me!”_ _

__She stared at him while he continued to laught helplessly. They were far more people with only a thin shred of sanity left that she could have imagined. She breathed deeply, and pictured her story making the front page of the Prophet. Also, she reminded herself that her photography on the cover of her (in progress) novel would be dashing._ _

__It was therefore with the patience of a Saint that she slowly (Grindelwald’s brain clearly needed time to process) asked him, “When you say ‘he’, are you talking about Albus Dumbledore?”_ _

__He stopped laughing at the name, with was a plus, but then he looked at something that was way past her, as if he had all but erased her existence. She waved her hands in front of his face, and got no reaction from his part. Amazing, she thought dryly.  
She heard a commotion of steps coming to them and thinking that her ten minutes had already passed, she tapped her foot against the stony floor in frustration. It must not be so hard to stay sane. Clearly, Grindelwald hadn’t even been trying._ _

__“Ah, he’s coming.” Grindelwald said, as he sat back on the cold floor. He looked deadly calm now. “You shall turn into your little bug form Miss. I may need you later.”_ _

__“How did you know about – ” She started, but then she heard the sound of someone hissing, and she felt a very justified fear going through her. She transformed, without another thoughts, and hid on the highest place she could find, the handle of a lamp._ _

__He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stepped into Grindelwald’s tower, along three Death Eaters. They all looked as scary as she heard them to be. The Dark Lord asked Grindelwald about a wand (the elder wand?), and got laughed at his face too for his trouble. So apparently, she wasn’t the only one to receive this treatment. However, unilke her, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (by Morgana, this name was far too long. She swore that if everyone wasn’t so afraid of dying, this surname wouldn’t even have been published into the evening edition) wasn’t known for his patient nature._ _

__“Kill me, then.” Grindelwald taunted, “Voldemort, I welcome death!” his laugh became manic, “But my death will not bring you what you seek…” he foresaw, “There is so much you do not understand…”_ _

__After this blatant display of madness, the Dark Lord threw the Killing curse at Grindelwald, showing that no one should test him and that he also took care of the restricting wards before climbing there.  
After the green light faded, he and his entourage left, rather moodily, leaving her with the cooling body of a ex-Dark Lord. _ _

__She was ready to wait to be sure that the place was all clear, but that was before she was felt some magic nag at hers, and she was made to change back into her human’s form. She fell from her perch and stumbled a bit painfully into the ground. She hissed in pain - one of her heel had been broken– and she was patting her abused backside, when she noticed the bright light coming from her chest. Her eyes blinked at it, and even with her half askew glasses on, she couldn’t seem to be able to look at this blinding sun. Whatever was happening, it seemed as if her necklace was recharging itself, like a Muggle’s battery. She only wished it didn’t end-up exploding. She felt the pendant’s chain tug at her neck, and after a few more tries, it escaped from her.  
It floated into the air in front of her, the two bubble of red, who had been dancing around each others, reunited suddently, and the light emanating from the pendant turned into a supernova. She covered her face with her hands, even as she felt this huge wave of magic wash over the place._ _

__Finally, the light dimmed, and faded, and she was left with a floating jewel and the definite impression that something huge had happened without knowing what it had been exactly._ _

__Annoying._ _

__She began to push herself up, but stilled when she caught movement from the inside of the cell. A young man exited it, one she had only seen twice in old photographs and by all the deity she didn’t believe in, this couldn’t be._ _

__He worked the articulation of his neck, and lazily passed a hand in his curled blond hair. He Accio’ed the twisted wand to him in silence, and satisfied, smiled at her. It wasn’t doing anything to smooth her rabbit heart. “You’re in luck.” he told her, his voice young, but marching with a knowing cadence, and all of this wasn’t happening, she must have hit her head as she fell and was now hallucinating. “I dislike thieves, but,” he opened his other palm and the pendant all but leaped inside it. He caressed it tenderly. “I have to admit that it played in my favor.” he seemed to only have eyes for his jewel. “Now, we’ll see if you can prove yourself useful.” He said it like a warning._ _

__She gluped._ _

__

__*  
Grindelwald left her in search of ‘decent clothes’. She was to stay into what looked like an obsolete study, and while he didn’t threatened her, he told her in no incertain terms that it would be ‘a shame to have her in the dungeon’. She complied rapidly, and sat hastly on the old chair that had been offered to her._ _

__His temporary despature had given her time to think (and to cast a Reparo on her broken heel, poor abused thing)._ _

__So, Grindelwald’s old and dead body, had apparently, neither stayed old nor dead. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ‘Avada Kedavra’ spells were a joke. First Harry Potter and now Gellert Grindelwald? This whole thing was more leaning toward incompetence than miracle. She couldn’t wait for him to be defeated (as he would be, he didn’t even know how to kill someone and make it stick, what a loser) so she could tell it all to her dearest readers.  
But first, she had to get herself free of Grindelwald’s hold. How, though._ _

__He came back as she was still wondering how to flee, wearing a long dark coat along an intricate waistcoat, full of patterns, each one in the most darkest tones of blue she had ever seen. His trousers were just as black as the rest, and he had found high boots to complete his attire. He looked fresh out of a past century novel, and ready to go to the Ball. He even brushed his hair, so his curls framed his face perfectly. She watched him right his coat just so, and spotted the pendant, proudly pinned onto one of his breast’s pocket. Traitor, she thought as she glared at the object._ _

__“Do you have a date?” She faintly asked before she could stop herself. Curiosity would be the death of her._ _

__He rose one eyebrow at her, before he smiled, indulgent, like she was a dim, but necessary pet. It was grating. “I am awaited somewhere else.” he offered her no more explanations, “Come, our carriage is awaiting.” He told her. He stepped out without waiting for her, and this was her opening, she was going to leave this madness and –_ _

__She felt his magic tug at her, and it all but dragged her behind him, like a bag of potatoes._ _

__

__*  
The carriage was a stuff of nightmare, carried by Thestrals. There were no way she was putting a shoe into it._ _

__But Grindelwald pointed his wand at her face, and urged her to hop into it, treating her like she was child making an unreasonable tantrum, “You’re going to make me late.” He even chided her._ _

__“What do you even need me for?” She asked tentivaley, while she eyed the betraying wood stick. She had the sinking feeling that his death curse wouldn’t be fake._ _

__“I don’t know where it is.” He admitted between thin lips. The act alone seemed to be costing him._ _

__“Where’s what?”_ _

__“Albus’s tomb.” he said, “You’ll be my map.” He told her this as if she should be proud. She wasn’t._ _

__“The place is controlled by Death Eaters,” she stated, as his blank look she elabored, “The same ones that just failed to kill you properly.” She drawled, since one couldn’t hope for a fifty years old captive to keep up with the news (honestly, it was not like he had anything else to do. The man got no excuses)._ _

__If anything he laughed. But as she still refused to move, he sobered and added, “I could use the Imperius curse on you of course, but honestly, what a waste of time.” he mildly said. She climbed into it and installed herself on the front seat before he could follow this thought by action. “Shon.” He smiled._ _

__

__*  
She learnt two things on their way to Hogwarts._ _

__First, a carriage pushed by Thestrals made for a jumpy experience. She was balanced from right to left, and she feared that her nails had been ruined by digging so hard onto the thick leather of her seat._ _

__Second, Grindelwald was a mad driver. He was flawless, certainly, but he seemed to enjoy speed, and was unashamed to push their carriage faster and faster._ _

__She screamed, in between two directions._ _

__

__*  
They miraculiously made it to Hogwarts’ castle in one piece._ _

__Grindelwald jumped down from their carriage elegantly, his boots hitting the ground soundlessly.  
Rita for her part, shakily climbed down, cursing Thestrals and carriages in general, and almost tripped, which given how shaky her legs felt, was no surprise. It was the middle of the night, the temperature was near zero, she was sweaty, her hair was a mess and her nail polish was ruined. She gritted her teeth, in order to not shout her outrage at Grindelwald. She had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate it._ _

__“Tell me where it is.” Grindelwald ordered her after he took a good look around the, for now, deserted field. Grindelwald hadn’t exactly been discreet in his arrival, between ripping apart the old wards and landing in the middle of Hogwarts’ fields. He didn’t seem to care very much, which was maybe the norm for someone who had already failed to die today, but for the others, the sane ones (namely her) this was not how it was done at all._ _

__She almost huffed at him, but he pointed his wand toward her, and while it was lighted for now with a white and harmless light, she couldn’t help but imagine it colored with green. “It’s at the shores of the Great Lake.” she told him, “You can’t miss it.” She said, remembering the huge marble that topped Dumbledore’s tomb._ _

__“Perfect, let’s go.”_ _

__“No!” she shouted suddently, forgetting self-preservation for a second. She composed herself quickly, least he decided to hex her. “I did my part.” she needed to convince him to let her go, she thought urgently, “You only said you needed direction!” She desperatly reminded him. He had never mentioned graves digging! She thought agitated._ _

__He dared to sigh. “Do refrain to be difficult.” Was all he said before he marched toward the lake as if he was on his way to a nice and delicious walk, and not minutes away from having several Death Eaters descend on them. She bet that the new Headmaster, Severus Snape, wouldn’t be too amused when he found them. She pursed her lips, feeling fed up. She was ready to leave, at feet if she had to, Grindelwald be damned, when she felt his magic pressing at her, and was once again pushed along for the ride._ _

__She began to understand why Dumbledore locked his cell’s door so firmly. This guy was needy._ _

__

__*  
“We’re all going to die.” she barely dared to breath, “You first, if justice does exist.” She tried to confort herself with that fact, for she was far too young and pretty to die now. The world (and her dear readers) would be at lost without her clever input._ _

__They found Dumbledore’s white tomb easely, and she had been ready to ditch Grindelwald then and there, but of course, it couldn’t be simple.  
There were Death Eaters everywhere. Fine, perhaps, just five of them, (but if she lived to tell this tale, she would insist on the fact that they were a lot of them). She recognized Bellatrix Lestrange (and how lovely to see her there, she thought as she tried to made herself as petite as she could). For the others, they were just grim anonymous figures to her. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was at the center of this little group project (grave digging was, it seemed, very popular those days), and was busying himself by shaking a frail looking teenager, who was trying to escape his hold in vain, while he was screaming incoherent hissing noises at him. She made a moue, the fact that he was always bullying kids wasn’t doing anything good for his popularity._ _

__“Tell me, where is he!” he ordered from the young man, “TELL ME!” He screamed in clear frustration._ _

__Grindelwald, who so far had examined the scene with consideration, became stiff with anger as soon as he noticed the youth. “You made me late.” he reproached her - which was rich considering that he had wasted a lot of his time grooming himself - before he made himself known in the worst way possible: by steeping into the middle of their late meeting. She all but took cover behind the nearest tree. She had never liked nature so much before. She still could see the scene, but from there she, at least, had the illusion of safety. “Good evening.” Grindelwald greeted evenly. Rita got her quill and parchment out and began to scrib down: 'GRINDELWALD HAD A DEATH WISH'. She then felt the need to underline it._ _

__Seven figures froze as they turned toward him. The young man stopped his struggling and his eyes widened when he saw Grindelwald, surprise written all over his face. A familiar face, Rita caressed her chin with the feather of her quill, but the smoothing gesture didn’t give her an answer. She was far too terrorised to think clearly. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named moved like a snake, and he harshly dropped the young man onto the ground as he turned to see who had dared to interrupt his daily session of torture. Grindelwald’s face hardened at this._ _

__“And who will you be?” He asked in a chilling voice that promised retribution. His wand was lazily put into his palm._ _

__Grindelwald tsk’d, “We’ve met earlier.” he replied, “Do people now are even slower than before?” He asked the young man who was at the Dark Lord’s feet._ _

__“It depends on the people.” he softly told him. His voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m afraid, that the company I’m in isn’t the brightest exemple.”_ _

__Grindelwald offered him a beaming smile, “You always did find yourself with poor company.”_ _

__His expression seemed torn between a tentative smile and a confused frown. “Or poor company finds me.” The I suppose, went unspoken._ _

__“Enough!” He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named interrupted, taking hold of the young man’s hair (under the lighted torch they seemed to glow, fire-red, like a barely restrained flame themselves. A truly peculiar colour, she thought that she would have remembered seeing it). He made a sound of pain as the Dark Lord tugged at it. The long cover he had been draped into, fell from his frame, and into the dirty ground. Rita narrowed her eyes to see better. It was… purple velvet spangled with golden stars.  
What._ _

__“Noseless and so greedy,” Grindelwald said between a clenched jaw, his earlier amusement forgotten. The Dark Lord obviously took offence if the way he bristled was anything to go by. “I’m going to kill you.” Grindelwald continued, placid, “The more you touch him, the more painful your death is going to be.” It sounded like a promise._ _

__It was Bellatrix Lestrange who laughed this time, “You? Killing the Dark Lord? But you’re nothing but a baby.” She crooned._ _

__Grindelwald looked at her up and down, “Your taste of fashion is poor, and you’re clearly a disgrace.” he noted, and Rita gasped in shock. Balls, she thought. “Stay away from my path and I will spare you, girl.” He threw back at her._ _

__Her face twisted, ugly, at the surname Grindelwald gifted her. She took a fighting stance, and this was the only warning he got before she attacked him. He evaded her curses fluidly; closing on her as he did so. This made her become frantic, and the nearer he came to her, the more she tried to cast quickly. But she didn’t seem to be a match for Grindelwald. He finished her by using an Incarcerous spell, and she struggled as ropes closed around her. Grindelwald took her wand from her then, and she stilled completely. He smiled, rather cruelly at her, before he snapped her wand into two. The poor wood broke into two, with a most painful sound. He promptly decided to gag her before Lestrange could recover from her shock and shout in outrage. Finally, he made her fall, with a form of lazy efficiency, into the unwelcoming cold waters of the lake. There were severals bubbling sounds, followed by a deep silence._ _

__Rita stared at Grindelwald with huge eyes. She didn’t know if she should be thankful or fearful.  
Definitely fearful._ _

__“Now, where were we?” Grindelwald asked idly. His eyes, bright and dangerous, swept over the remaining Death Eaters in interest._ _

__A first one lifted his arm to probably curse the impudent man, but Grindelwald threw something at him before he could even dream to finish his silly thought; and whatever it was it left him motionless on the ground. A second leaped into action fast enough, but after some exhange of spells, during which Grindelwald looked as if he was dancing on some tune instead of fighting for his life - like his opponent was - the Death Eater finally ended on the ground, next to his colleague. The two last ones tried to attack Grindelwald together, which at least was a sensible plan, but Grindelwald seemed to have been fed up with this foreplay, and decided to bring out the big guns. He twirled into himself, and a blue circle of fire appeared at his feet. He then rose one challenging eyebrow at his two adversaries, who once provoked tried to foolishly cross this ring of fire to get him. They didn’t manage to touch one of his (still perfectly combed) hair, as they died, burning and screaming._ _

__Grindelwald smiled as they did, which didn’t reassure Rita at all. Her life was into the hands of this maniac, she thought, bitterly regretting her visit to Nurmengard._ _

__He ended his blue fire spell with an elegant twist of his wand, and faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with a form of satisfied determination._ _

__The (current) Dark Lord didn’t look so hot, if she dared to say so, “Who are you?” he asked him once again. “Do you have something to do with this?” he pressed the tip of his wand into the young man neck as Grindelwald refused to answer him. It dug into his pale skin, and Rita grimaced in sympathy, this seemed painful. “Where is Dumbledore? Where is the wand?!” He shouted the last part, sounding completely mental and obssessive. 'The Dark Lord’s mind seemed to have suffered during his years passed as being nothing more than a little parasite', she wrote even as her fingers shook in fear, 'he was in fact far more twitchy that one could think of in the first place and -'_ _

__“I told you, you won’t have it.” Grindelwald deigned to tell him, even though he only had eyes for the young man._ _

__He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fumed and seemed ready to try his failure of a Killing curse on the unfortunate man he got into his grip, but this was when, a well-known menace flew over them. It made an angry sound, before diving at the Dark Lord.  
It went down on him, and bit his casting hand, hard, his beak slicing deeply into the flesh. The Dark Lord lost his grip of his wand, Rita saw the stick roll into the ground, and of the young man, as he howled out in pain and tried to bat the phoenix away from his person. Using the opening created by Fawkes, Grindelwald closed into the Dark Lord and slowly leant down to retrieve the fallen wand.  
It was with such timing that when the Dark Lord stopped his fight with the fiery bird, who had decided to fly into the open arms of the young man, (and Rita noted that it still had the wand it had stolen to her at Ollivander’s into its claws, that awful thief!) it was to find Grindelwald pointing his own wand at him._ _

__“It’s funny isn’t it? How a situation can reverse itself.” Grindelwald calmy told him. “Avada –” He intoned._ _

__“Don-” He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named started._ _

__“- Kedavra.” He finished, the green light hitting into the Dark Lord’s chest. He fell, lifeless (and rather pathetically, if she was honest) into the somber waters of the lake._ _

__Well._ _

__That was so anticlimatic, she mused with a pout (this story would never sell)._ _

__She slowly got out of her hiding place, looking around herself in the absent paranoia that more Death Eaters were going to come and try to kill Grindelwald (if only). She went near the lake and gazed down at it. No one so far, was climbing out of it. She wondered for a wild minute if the Merpeople would terribly mind to have a power angry Dark Lord drown inside their home.  
Probably, she thought, for this couldn’t be proper to drop your troubled dictator at someone’s without at least sending a note first. (The fact that she even considered writing said note, and dropping it into the lake, showed her how exhausted she was. By Morgana, she needed a bath, and hours of sleep uninterrupted by Grindelwald’s suicidal wishes.)_ _

__Grindelwald went toward the Dark Lord’s ex-captive and only stopped when he was close to him. The two of them stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. The auburn young man looked up at Grindelwald looming over him with apprehension, which was pretty justified given the night he must have had. He didn’t seem to have spotted her yet, but she couldn’t help but do, and she stared at his pale blue eyes, at his tall figure laid on the dirty ground, and at his ruined white robes numbly. She stared at the contempt phoenix inside his arms (who glowered at her) and she wished someone would come and shake her out._ _

__Holy everything, this was Albus Dumbledore. (A young version, because apparently, he had been young. She had seen pictures, but some thing had to be lived. She gaped at this new information sink in.)__

____

____

“I know why you’re here.” Dumbledore stated shakily. He was clutching Fawkes against his chest with one hand, while his other was holding the sculpted wand. “I -”

“I honestly doubt it.” Grindelwald cut. Then he did the most bizarre thing Rita had seen him do tonight: he slowly crouched and pick up the youth. He then began to leave the place, carrying her late professor flush against him.

__The lights were poor, but she swore that Dumbledore blushed as he was led bridal style to their awaiting carriage._ _

__

__*  
Their ride back was a tense affair. She couldn’t explain how she ended up in that bloody carriage again (almost willingly too!) or why she gave Grindelwald the direction of her flat. Shock, she thought, must have played a huge part into this._ _

__Grindelwald could apparently drive a carriage without having to sit in the front, which meant that he was inside with them, and also an arse for making her did just that on their first ride together (he surely wanted her to enjoy the experience fully, the utter -). Anyway, he hadn’t stopped staring at Dumbledore ever since he got him, and Rita was impressed by the sheer calm her late professor was still managing to project. He was petting Fawkes. The silence inside lingered and lingered._ _

__Awkward._ _

__At some point, Grindelwald sighed and while their equipage was still flying in the air, decided to go out. Perhaps, he went to the front seat, perhaps he died. What the hell._ _

__“He…” She trailed, her index indicating the exit he just took._ _

__“He’s what you will call a ‘show-off’” Dumbledore provided evenly. It was the first time he even aknowledged her since his ressurection._ _

__“Well, aren’t you a pair.” she drawled. He tilted his head at her, and she blinked at his appearance, still taken aback by at his rather short hair (at least for him), and his clean shaved looking jaw. She decided to use this Grindelwald-less moment to make Dumbledore aware of the fact that they were at a madman’s mercy. “He’s kidnapping us.” she started. “Are you planning to stop this anytime soon?”_ _

“I do not believe he’s kidnapping _us.”_

__She frowned. This had not been the reply she wanted. “Are you going to restrain him then? He’s bloody dangerous, and clearly capable of anything.” She felt the need to point out._ _

__It was his turn to sigh. He closed his eyes as if to block her out. “I can’t.”_ _

__“What do you mean you can’t.” She flatly wondered. Dumbledore for all his arrogance was one of the most powerful wizard, if not the most. It pained her to admit it, which was why she would never say this out loud._ _

__“Exactly this. I can’t go against him.” He continued to pet Fawkes who glared at her._ _

__She didn’t care if she was interrupting his daily session of pets, she needed out. “You mean you don’t want to.” then she remembered something, “It’s like back then, isn’t it?” at this he opened his eyes and fixed her. It was unsettling, the intensity of his look on her, but she forged on, “I’ve heard you weren’t so ready to fight him either. Why? Is it some sort of residual friendship that stop you from duelling him? Is it something else?”_ _

__He regarded her some more, before he replied, “I think you’re in need of a nap.”_ _

__“What?!”_ _

__He pointed his wand at her, “Sleep.”_ _

__She did._ _

__

__*  
She woke up, and found herself slunched on her armchair. She righted her glasses on her nose, and looked aorund. _ _

__Albus Dumbledore was sat on her couch looking hesitant, her kettle was flying around and pressing him to drink more tea (and since when did this thing fly?) and Gellert Grindelwald had taken possession of her other armchair, while Fawkes was hopping around, and seemed to declare all her furnitures unworthy of being his perch.  
It was fun all around.  
It was chaos._ _

__“What did you do.” She accused Grindelwald, the nearest culprit._ _

__“We’re doing a break.” he didn’t startled to see her awake, “Trust me, if I had another location, we would have gone there. Your flat is appaling.”_ _

__“My flat was fine before you stepped into it!” She fumed. The arrogant prick!_ _

__“’We’?” Dumbledore repeated as he looked at Grindelwald._ _

__“Obviously.”_ _

__“Is it?” He demanded._ _

__Ignoring this, he continued, “You shall drink more tea.” Grindelwald told Dumbledore midly. “You’re awfully pale.” He said in a frown as if he wasn’t sure he liked it._ _

__“I am always pale.” He replied absently. His eyes were doing a strange dance of seeking and unseeking the ex-Dark Lord currently sat cross legged in front of him. Rita was starting to have an headache. Only the fear of missing some vital informations was keeping her out of her bed right now. Sometimes, she wished that she wasn’t so dedicated to her job._ _

__“Paler than usual.” Grindelwald insisted proving to be as stubborn as the kettle he had enchanted. It figured. “It’s natural, of course, given that you were dead for some time.”_ _

__Rita mused that nothing about this situation was natural._ _

__Somehow, this snapped Dumbledore out of his peaceful act, “You tired to have me killed, I if recall correctly,” he said in a tone that clearly convey: I-recall-it-perfectly-of-course-and-you-are-an-idiot-for-wasting-my-time. “You didn’t seem very worried for my well-being then.”_ _

__“I was young and prone to tantrums.” Grindelwald defended sourly._ _

__Rita looked at his seveteen top eighteen appearance, and almost snorted._ _

__“Your attitude so far doesn’t scream ‘improvement’ to me.” Dumbledore, for once voiced her thoughts exactly. What a surrealist night._ _

__“I did years of meditation.” the ‘all for this shit’ was implied and rang loudly to Rita. Grindelwald gritted between a clenched jaw, “And I wouldn’t have tried to have you killed if you have deigned to reply to my letters!” He accused right back, proving that Dumbledore could challenge years of serene thoughts just by being his usual prideful self. She felt an unwanted sting of sympathy for Grindelwald._ _

__“Oh, is it my fault now?!” Dumbledore asked unbelieving, “You’re the one who left me!”_ _

__“I didn’t leave you!”_ _

__“You so did!”_ _

__“You’re the one who tried to get our pact destroyed!”_ _

__“You’re the one who tried to enslave Europe!”_ _

__“You dared,” Grindelwald sprang from her armchair and came up, all close and personal at Dumbledore who didn’t move an inch. Probably too stubborn to cede ground, “To send your zoologist boy to me!”_ _

__“You were beginning to send me Howlers!” his eyes flashed dangerously, and if it was possible he came even more closer to him by standing up too, “Every bloody mornings!”_ _

__“Stop screaming at me!”_ _

__“I am not screaming!” Dumbledore screamed, “I am perfectly calm and collected!”_ _

__“Well, can you both be calm and collected elsewhere?” she wondered, “You’re going to wake up the whole neighbour.” She swore that she saw more lighted up windows now than before._ _

__“Shup up!” They both rounded on her._ _

__She huffed with feeling, completely fed up with them both (and this was why dead people stayed dead, she concluded), “Couldn’t you, I don’t know, resolve your relationship’s issues elsewhere?”_ _

__“We do not have issues.” They both said with impeccable synchronicity. Grindelwald looked at her as if she just had personally insult him, while Dumbledore just seemed bemused as to why she was even here in the first place.  
Well, that made them two._ _

__“Sure,” she drawled. Her shoes were still full of mud from their nightime excursion, her skirt was rippled and ruined and she was annoyed beyond belief, “And I don’t have a deadline at the end of the month!” she rose her voice too, let them taste their own medecine, “Which you clearly don’t care at all, because you are morons!” she exploded. “I only wanted your secrets,” she told Dumbledore, feeling that it was the most innoncent thing to want, “But I sure as hell don’t want him!” she pointed at Grindelwald, feeling very vindicative and accusing as she did so, like a schoolgirl inside Dumbledore’s class, “He’s directive, and mental.” And this was still a very nice description of him, “Take him,” she pleaded Dumbldeore fully and openely now, “Because he almost made me die inside his awful carriage ride, and he threatened me, and – ”_ _

__“Marry me.” Grindelwald blurted in a shaky breath._ _

__There was a beat of silence as Rita blinked owlishly at Grindelwald while Dumbledore stopped moving completely. The last time she had seen him this still, it was at his funeral._ _

__“I thought we were already better than married?” Dumbledore whispered in stupor before he seemed to remember himself. He shook himself out of his surprise faster than her. She was still trying to process the whole thing. “I mean, I’ve refused plenty of proposals.” he told Grindelwald midly. “Some were terribly romantic. I once had a young man swearing his undying love to me.” Grindelwald’s eyes flashed at this, “He was ready to risk it all to live with me. He offered me my own equipage.” he hummed in appreciation, and his bird, retreated to her kitchen counter, made a melodic sound as if to say: ‘oh, such a nice present!’. “I knew he mostly was attracted to my magic, but it was awfully flattering.” He told him in a sweet smile._ _

__“What’s his name?” She asked, her eyes shining in delight at this flow of informations, making her forgot her previous bout of anger. She quickly got her quill and parchment out of her purse, and why did people even needed a purse? It was inconvenient and was currently daring to slow her down -_ _

__“Is he still alive, by chance?” Grindelwald wondered, sounding just this side of menacing. She installed herself quickly on a corner of her low table. The angle for writing was all wrong, but she didn’t have the time to right it. It would do, she decided._ _

__Dumbledore ignored them both, “There was also the Rothschild’s daughter, Béatrice –”_ _

__“She was a well-known lesbian.” Grindelwald cut him off with a frown._ _

__“Exactly.” Dumbledore confirmed, and Rita paused into her messy scrawling to make a ‘what’ face, “We would have got along perfectly. The only thing she wanted from me was conversations, and I knew she would have given me everything. Be it access to beauty and art or rare potion ingredients. She also had offered me a carriage, along my own wing inside her Villa, of course.”_ _

__“Of course.” Grindelwald repeated, his voice was full of sarcasm._ _

__“Was carriage a big thing back in the days?” Rita questionned, as she started to take notes on the first parchment she could get her hands to. So far she had written: Proposals. Young man. Rothschild’s daughter (lesbian?) and carriage (?)._ _

__“One of my dear colleague at Hogwarts had also once tried to propose to me. It was not very well done, but the feeling behind it was so naïve, I couldn’t help but find it adorable.”_ _

__“I want names.” Grindelwald growled now, his fingers closing dangerously around his wand._ _

__“I, also, want names.” Rita seconded this raising one her index in the air, and wetting her lips in anticipation._ _

__“I rejected all of them, and many more.” Dumbledore said, “And for what?” he asked in a barely controlled outrage, “An off-hand made proposal?” he raised his chin, haughtily. “If you truly think that I could be played so simply, you will find yourself deceived my dearest, because I may look the part, but I am not, in fact, as easely sway as before.”_ _

__Rita mouthed ‘dearest’ once, before nodding to herself and putting it down on her parchment. Then she stopped as the enormity of what had happened clicked into her mind. “Wait. Wait.” she said, “You.” she pointed the tip of her feather at Grindelwald, “You just ask him to marry you. Him.” she then pointed at Dumbledore, “The man who put you in prison. A man.” She stressed as both men stared at her as if she was painfully slow._ _

__Grindelwald pinched the bridge of his nose, “It seems as if I overestimated my patience for dealing with idiots.” He lamented._ _

__“Excuse you!” She tapped one of her hand against the table, insulted._ _

__“No, I won’t.” he declared, before he added, “How can you be so slow? I thought you were investigating on Albus for your book?” He asked her._ _

__“What book?” Dumbledore asked wearily._ _

__“Something about your life and lies.” he waved absently, “Speaking of your lies, how nice to see that you didn’t destroy our pendant.” he drawled. “Is there something else I ought to know?”_ _

__“I shall have known that once the seal broke, the blood magic would react with the Hallow.” he muttered to himself, tapping his wand against his legs. “Did you steal it to Elphias?” Dumbledore sighed in resignation._ _

__“What did he have anything to do with this?” he fired back, “Wait, you gave our blood troth to Elphias?” His voice started to rise again._ _

__“Doge, exactly!” she leaped over Grindelwald’s voice, pointing her finger at her late professor as if it could right her world view, “The two of you were shagging, weren’t you?” she questionned Dumbledore who stared astonished at her. “And you!” she said to Grindelwald, sure that she could fix all her theories and turned it into the sole and unique truth. “Were with that Rosier woman,” she trailed searching for her name, “Wilda? Verda?”_ _

__“Vinda.” Grindelwald corrected, “And do not talk over me.” He frowned at her in displeasure._ _

__“I honestly wish that I Disapparated.” Dumbledore mumbled._ _

__“Not before you answer all my questions!” She ordered._ _

__Fawkes seemed to decide that it would be more peaceful to see this exchange happening elsewhere. “Miss Skeeter,” Dumbledore started unperturbed by his bird leave, “Did you learn nothing from the talk I had with you about excessive curiosity and where it will lead you?” He sounded extremely disappointed._ _

__“At the Headmaster’s desk for a lecture about what is and isn’t appropriate?” she guessed she recalled her Hogwarts years. “In prison?” She ventured as she thought of her visit to Nurmengard,_ _

__“While I am sure Severus would be delighted to –”_ _

__“Who is this Severus now?” Grindelwald interrupted, not intent of following his own directive it seemed._ _

__“Are you going to be jealous of him too?”_ _

__“Should I have reasons to?”_ _

__Dumbledore massaged his temples very slowly, “I can feel my patience growing very thin, Gellert.” he told him, “Whatever was I thinking back then? Merlin, I used to find your possessiveness terribly charming.” he admitted as he looked at the ceiling as if it could explain to him what had made him think something so silly, “Listen. You,” he said to Rita, “Better drop your idea of a book about me. I don’t want it, I do not like it.” he stressed, “And you,” he turned to Grindelwald, “You only ever wanted the elder wand.” he got out the long wand, that she had come to associate with Dumbledore, from his sleeve. “That’s why you came for, because it’s the only thing you ever loved.” he said bitterly, before he threw the stick toward Grindelwald. It landed softly into her rug. “Here, have it. I’m so thorougly done with all of this.” His voice caught at the end but he rose his chin and he began to leave them to it._ _

__That was one way to dramatically march out, she thought._ _

__“Do not leave me behind!” Grindelwald demanded. He grabbed his upper arm. The white fabric of Dumbledore’s robe wrinkled under his grip. “I did not come for the elder wand this time.” he confessed to him softly, “I did learn from my past mistake, Liebling.”_ _

__“Then, why are you here?” Dumbledore wondered sounding completely thrown off by this twist._ _

__“I came for you. You remember I,” he breathed, and forced himself to let go of Dumbledore arm, “I only wanted the Hallow back then. But you were here, and I honestly didn’t know what to make of you. I wanted the Hallows so badly, they were the treasure I was after.” he explained looking earnestly into Dumbledore blue eyes. “But, I did learn better. So I came for you this time, because I realised, decades too late, that the real treasure who had waiting for me in Godric’s Hollow had been you.”_ _

__Dumbledore appeared to be speechless._ _

__Meanwhile, Rita gasped. The ‘ha!’ she made was loud in the sudden silence. “When did you meet, how.” she fired eargerly. Miss Bagshot had been awfully vague on this matter. As the answer didn’t come right away, she moved her feather’s quill toward Grindelwald as if she could stab him into submission with it. “When.” Rita repeated in what she would later deny to be a whine._ _

__“I’ve asked you then, if you wanted to marry me,” Grindelwald insisted as he closed the distance between Dumbledore and him, and great, they were both ignoring her now, those utter arses, “And if I recall correctly, you said yes Liebling.”_ _

__“I only didn’t say no.” Dumbledore argued weakly, sounding very torn with his past self._ _

__“Fine.” Grindelwald lowered himself to one knee in front of Dumbledore who looked back at him in astonishment, “Mein Shatz, you are the light in my darkest nights, my only equal. I loved then, and I left you. Look at us now, you’re as lovely as before, and I love you even more.” he said it with ease, “I’m asking you for a second chance even if perhaps I don’t deserve it.” he admitted in a ghost of a shrug as if he couldn’t care less about what he deserved or not, “I swear, I will not part from you again. Would you do me the honour to marry me?” a pause, as he seemed to quickly think, “I will also give you a carriage.” He added._ _

__“It’s the cheapest lines I’ve ever heard.” Rita commented evenly. Her writing quill was still undecided, hovering into the air, “No one will ever fall for that.” She wrinkled her nose, disappointed at him. Did she have to do all the work here? She sighed, she would have to rewrite Grindelwald’s proposal all by herself, since the man was apparently incapable of doing a proper one._ _

__Grindelwald glared at her for good measure, while Dumbledore breathed, “I cannot believe I’m falling for that either.” then he smiled down, full of hope, at Grindelwald, “You better give me my own equipage.” he positively beamed, before he offered one of his hand to Grindelwald. The latter took it, and straightened himself in a fluid move. Dumbledore tugged him closer and kissed his forehead, “Yes. A thousand times, yes. Idiot.”_ _

__“Don’t speak like this to your fiancé.” He said before grabbing him for a passionate kiss._ _

__Her glasses fell from her nose, and Rita mourned her lack of camera even as she gaped. Their hands roamed over each other, it was almost enough to make her blush. Then Dumbledore made a little breathy noise that seemed to drive Grindelwald wild, and yes, she was blushing.  
She must have made an awfully delighted sound (the scandal that it was! And happening so close to her!), because Grindelwald stopped his ravishing of Dumbledore long enough to rose his wand at her: “Nap, now.” he ordered out of breath. “Somnolus.”_ _

__She crashed, head first, on her low table._ _

__Somewhere inside her flat, Fawkes broke a lamp and remained as unfazed as ever._ _

__

__*  
She woke up the next morning to see that Dumbledore and Grindelwald had left her flat. They managed to disappear from her life with far more discretion than they had entered it (not that hard to achieve)._ _

__Most of the notes she took the night prior were missing. She found two memo instead.  
One memo had been put at the place where she had secured the letter and pictures she had got from Miss Bagshot. It was written in flourish letters and read: ‘I’m taking back my correspondance.’_ _

__She mourned them as she did a moue. Grindelwald could be so dramatic._ _

__The second was on the draft of her novel. ‘I expressed my disapproval on this. I do hope you will take it into account.’ Dumbledore was also dramatic, she thought. ‘Remember that too much curiosity doesn’t always lead where you wish to.’ It ended criptically. He had sounded resolute when he had asked her to drop her project. She supposed that only his very liberal and do-as-you-please view had stopped him from tearing it to pieces.  
But the thing was that she was also very resolute, and she knew that her novel on him would make her career. _ _

__She chose to ignore this._ _

__

__*  
Her ultimate downfall wasn’t Grindelwald in the end nor even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  
No, her true mistake was to accept a cup of tea. (How very British of her.)_ _

__She was busy putting her notes into order, thinking that her paper was going to reach a whole new level of success. She was absolutely delighted at the bomb effect her book was going to have. She could cry actual tears of happiness if pushed, that was how ecstatic she was.  
She was been feverishly writing everything down, starting with: ‘Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore’s relationship was passionate, (very much) sexual, and holy shit they boned!’ And ending with: ‘And they were kissing the last time I saw them!’. Not in such terms obviously, she was a professional, but she was painting a picture here (she was also an artist, thank you very much)._ _

__It had been several weeks since this unbelievable night, and she still couldn’t grasp how lucky she had been to witness all of this and survive (no thanks to Grindelwald). And this was why, after hours of work, she had the crazy idea to do a break and drink a good cup of tea._ _

__She went out, and took the direction of her favorite tea shop._ _

__The english’s sun was doing its best to make an appearance despite the clouds, and she gathered that all in all, today was a good day.  
Therefore it was with the smug feeling of impending scandalous news yet to be released that she entered the shop and ordered a green tea with scones. She chose a table and took entire possession of it by dropping most of her lastest notes out. She was crossing and correcting some sentences when she felt the waiter came near her. She didn’t raise her head as he disposed her order (some were doing serious work here), but she did notice the plum trousers he was wearing. She heard the sound of a cup hitting the table, and saw a plate of scones being disposed not so far from her face, and for now that was all she cared about.  
She bit into one scone first (delicious) before she tasted the tea. It was… overly sweet and disgusting. She grimaced as she put the cup down in a furious ‘click’. Making decent tea wasn’t so hard, and certainly not out of reach for a so-called tea shop. She searched the waiter with her eyes so she could glower properly at him.  
She found him, next to the counter. He was leaning back into it, and staring directly at her, as if he had been awaiting. The reprimand she had wanted to make died on her lips, as he smiled, secretive and how so haughtily at her._ _

__Albus Dumbledore was smiling at her, dimples visible and eyes twinking, and she knew then, that she was toasted.  
She recalled his voice saying to her: ‘too much curiosity often lead to displeasant roads, Miss Skeeter’ which turned out to be the most ‘I told you so’ in History._ _

__“I hope you enjoyed your scones.” Grindelwald whispered into her ear, and she didn’t even had the time to startle before her head felt light and spinning. She passed out, her face missing the scones’ plate only by an inch._ _

__

__*  
“Isn’t breaking into her apartment a bit extreme, Liebling?”_ _

__“You once tried to burn Paris.”_ _

__“I hate Paris.”_ _

__“And I hate people digging into my past and writing…”_ _

__“Trashy papers on it?”_ _

__“I’m only making sure that I Vanish all her work on me.” a pause. “I told her to drop it and she didn’t. This is educative.”_ _

__“She won’t even remember your lesson with the erase-memory potion you put into her tea.”_ _

__“Fine. This is vindicative.”_ _

__

__*  
Many months later_ _

__She was working on her paper, Harry Potter’s life of lies. She wrote quickly and with precision, feeling the success it was going to have as she did so (everyone wanted a piece of the ‘Savior’ these days, it was almost too easy. It was unfortunate that Harry Potter’s life was so utterly boring. She had to be really creative to make it engrossing)._ _

This morning, she had found a rumpled paper that had somehow managed to survive the break-in her flat had suffered some months prior. It had probably been one angry reader or a I've-felt-attacked-by-your-words person (the most boring ones), and so far, her landlord was refusing to shoulder the fault (she had published a very detailled paper, wherein she complained about his incompetence).  
Anyway, the notes that she had retrieved, had said: Proposals. Young man. Rothschild’s daughter (lesbian?) and carriage (?).  
It had made very little sense to her, and the fact that she didn’t recall writing it in the first place was upsetting. She had destroyed it without further thoughts. (It was better if her bout of sleep-deprived-madness stayed between her and her.)

Feeling a moue coming to her face as she recalled this (she hated to be reminded of her faults), she decided to go through her mails, discarding insulting letters and Howlers from the ones she actually wanted to read: the praising ones. That was when she came across a very stylized envelope. It was blue with golden stars turning on themselves. Clearly a heavely Charmed thing.

She turned it between her fingers before she opened it.  
Inside was a card, with a photography of a newly wed couple, lost in each other’s embrace. They were dressed in matching outfits and standing under a japanese’s cherry tree. The wizard’s picture moved of course, just enough to see the man with golden curls kissing the auburn man while the pale rosy petals fell delicatly on them, before they seemed to disappear into a whisp of cherry flowers. It looked very romantic.

She turned it over, intrigued.  
On the back was written under the usual announcement in flourish letters: ‘You had been a rather useful tool’ which was the most back handed compliment she had ever received. The caption at the end added: ‘but not that useful. G.G and A.G. (I won, obviously, at the name thing)’. She finished reading it with a frown, and she barely had time to digest the sheer insult of it (she was no tool!), before the whole card burnt into ashes. She cried in distress as the blue flames seemed ready to shallow her hand too, but it didn’t hurt her, it only left black soot on her manicured fingers and particles of smokes into the air.

Whoever it had come from, they were bloody show-off, she thought mildly annoyed. If they imagined that they could get away with this, they were delusional.

Just so, they waited for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Some stuff were directly taken from canon (Albus’ letter, Elphias’ declaration, and some of Bathilda’s lines and Gellert's, also Rita’s description of Grindeldore’s relationship was inspired by JKR’s words on them). The words in italics at the beginning are from the song The Show by Lenka.  
> Only your comments and kudos can tell me if you liked it :)
> 
> Also, for those whose following my on-going fic, I’m working on it, pinky swear ;)


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